Eau, Naturel

This story is almost one where you had to be there but I hope you'll be able to experience the shame that my friend Pierce and I had to endure.

You see, Pierce and I both hold a deep passion for showers and showering.  In February of this year, we were at swimming meet where, on one day of the competition, we both had no events to compete in.  So, what we decided to do while the rest of the team was swimming, was to take a long shower.  Both of us relaxed in the bathing area of the change room for a long time. There was many sections to the showering area so luckily we were able to find a more private area where we could just talk and kill time.  The exact amount of time we killed was approximately three hours.  Now, during those three hours of standing under the hot water two things must be made clear.  First:  Pierce and I have known each other a long time and are very comfortable with each other, and to be most comfortable in the shower, we bathed in the nude.  Second:  After an hour and a half of hot showering, to avoid faintness, Pierce and I had to stay hydrated.  

We left our posts in the stalls to refill our water bottles.  The fountain was at the front of the change room, which wasn't a big deal.  And we didn't want to dry off, so we went naked, which also wasn't a big deal.  But the fountain was one of those ancient pieces of technology where you must hold your bottle under the falling water while also pushing the button to produce the water -- that was a little but of a problem as Pierce and I only have two hands.  For multiple minutes, as Pierce and I filled our water bottles as quickly as we could, unable to cover ourselves, the lucky male patrons of the Laval University change room, rounded the corner of the entrance to see two young, barren men, snickering quietly as a herd of grown men parted around them offering looks to be described only as displeased.  It must have been a busy time of day too, because I swear there was a steady stream of unhappy onlookers for those few moments. 

Stay thirsty, my friends. 

You're welcome,

B.F. Greenough, aka,
Chief Hanky, The Nude Noob

Become Gookish

This is an informal essay I wrote this year. Hope you enjoy. 

Become Gookish

My father owns a company.  He is the president of an industrial air-compressor manufacturer run in Barrie, Ontario, that supplies large portions of Canada, and some reaches of the U.S. with quality machines.  His business is doing well.  I guess there is a substantial consumer market out there for super-powered leaf blowers.  I understand that the air-compressors power factories, hospitals, and well, other machines.  What I do not understand is, why? Why must the forty employees of my father’s company come into work every day in a noisy factory? “Well, that’s easy they need to make money.” Why? I’d ask again, and receive the blatant answer that they need to pay for food and shelter.  But why? They are obviously handy people; could they not manage these things themselves? “This is how the world works, Mr.  Greenough get used to it.” I am used to it.  We all are, and I think that’s the problem.  The entire economic and materialistic system is extravagant.  I think things could be simpler, and for a lot of us, it would be healthier.  

Douglas Gook, my uncle, lives simply.  He exists in a joyous realm, overshadowed by our own, guided by straightforward beliefs: find a home, cultivate food, and travel.  With these three principles at heart, I see the coolest, happiest, most peaceful dude lead a fulfilling life.  He runs a farm that produces fruit, vegetables, and honey.  He sells what he grows to markets and spends his time hunting for chunks of a specific fungi, Chaga, which he also sells for a surprising $50 per pound.  The man eats every meal with his wooden chopsticks and always licks his plate clean.  He is not a hippie; he’s too old for that title, and it doesn't suit him — no, he is a Gook.  He is 6’5” and rocks a tight braid down to his mid-back.  He pees in nature and does not own a cell phone or car.  Like every spiritual person, he doesn't eat meat (he’s a pescetarian), and music is a simple pleasure.  He plays an instrument called a jaw-harp.  Picture a small metal key that you bite down on, which produces a sound comparable to a didgeridoo.  I do not know if was part of his selection, or a beautiful coincidence, but my Aunt (actual blood relative) that he has married, is a flight attendant.  Gook travels frequently and usually freely.  Being directly related has its perks, and my uncle takes full advantage.  (Side note to how my aunt and uncle met — it was on a nude beach.)

We worry about bills, jobs, gas prices, and stock trends because that is the system in place.  I’m not saying let’s collapse it and all join a commune.  I’m also not claiming to know an extensive amount about consumerism and the free market, industrial world.  But I do know we could live in a way that is more rewarding and beneficial to ourselves, that still impacts our society in the same, cog-in-the-machine way we do now.  Explicitly, our current concept of a commendable life is too complex, and ultimately unsustainable.  

My father expands his company deeper into the United States, and my uncle expands his horizons as he travels to Barbados for the first time.  I worry about the fluctuation in my stock investments while Gook pockets the $12 from selling a tub of his honey.  As we are promoted in our jobs, and bestowed the bonus of working longer hours, my uncle receives another llama at his farm.  We envy our neighbour’s new home entertainment system, but should be green with jealousy when hearing Gook describe the first skate on Dragon Lake.  A place where the ice is so smooth that you can glide hundreds of meters off a single carve, and so clear that you can chase the fish dancing below you, while skating laps on the transcendent, crystal platform.  

426 000 cell phones are retired in the U.S. every day (Bourne).  This is similar to the entire population of Halifax throwing out their old phones and getting a new one, everyday.  It is said though, that this consumerism drives growth — that we wouldn't be where we are today without the competitive market.  Many think that this history of buying and selling in a redundant cycle has brought us to the first world.  I received a new phone last Christmas.  My previous one did not break or get lost.  I did not grow because of this consumer act.  I just produced waste that will add to problems of the future.  My uncle is selling the hula-hoops he has made by hand at a festival, but we are getting road rage in traffic because we have a car in the first place, in these foolish, two step situations.  Situations where the dilemma we are faced with is caused by a selfish decision we had already made.  It is messy, fruitless, and not a way of living that our families can continue, or at least shouldn’t want to.  

The saying goes that “Ignorance is Bliss”.  My uncle is not ignorant of the mess, but simply chooses to live free from it.  Something can be learnt from his bohemian ways, and maybe if we became more Gookish, we could swim in the bliss as well.  

You're welcome,

B.F. Greenough, aka,

Chief Hanky, Thought Thinker

It Takes Warm Water and Vinegar

I was talking with James recently, reminiscing about some of our best tales.  He told me about another risky evening, during his hoodlum period of last year.  It was in the spring with a couple mutual friends. Thankfully I wasn't involved in this act of misconduct, but it did sound exciting so that's why it is featured here.

It only happened a month or so after returning from his famous Cuba trip with Pierce.  The two of them were at it again, along with a friend Geoff, around midnight in James' neighbourhood.  There had been six boys to start, but their separate egging activities had split them up. With the last three eggs in hand, Geoff and Pierce headed down a side street while James kept watch out on the well-lit main road, close to home.  After not too long, Pierce and Geoff came up the side street at a light jog and laughing, having just hit the bay window of a poor neighbour. Then the three continued up the main road until they were at a safe distance.  By chance and paranoia,  James looked back to the mouth of the side street while Pierce and Geoff had moved on ahead.

As if on cue, out of the blackness of the side road and into the exposure of the steet lights, a bald man -presumably in his low 30s- sprinted towards James with a vengeful, preying manner.  His eyes held such a fury that eggs hitting his front window could not be the only problem in his life. 

James did not do what you would expect a young hooligan to do in this situation. Instead, inexplicably, he stood his ground, shrugged, and innocently uttered the words "wasn't me" while shaking his head. The pursuer, ten meters away from James, suddenly changed his trajectory to Pierce and Geoff further up the main street.  They had not heard the man yet, and once James was obviously no longer the target, he yelled "Run Pierce!".  Surprised at the success of his defence mechanism, and with his heart in his throat, James turned on his heels and sprinted down his own side road only hoping to loop back to his friends soon.

Meanwhile (now from Pierce's eyes), without looking back, he and Geoff, after hearing James' warning, sprinted in terror.  The man was right behind them but prey runs faster than predator.  Being young also had its benefits as the the two took off up the main street and around the corner of another side road.  They spread out, still within sight of each other, and the man decided to continue to pursue Geoff.  He was apparently trying to communicate with the two of them, pleading for them to stop and offering some kind of civilized reaction, using the words "just want to talk".  Fat chance as minutes before he was shouting "Get back here you f@#&ers!" Geoff adapted a running pattern that involved zig-zagging from one side of the road to another in hope to out-swerve the man.  At one point he was almost within arms reach before backing off.
I'm guessing he gave up his hunt for the better part of a minute before Pierce or Geoff realized. The two paired up once again, and fled to the back yard of the nearest property.  They crouched beside a shed, still rigid with panic.  Pierce grabbed a nearby shovel before Geoff pointed out the ridiculousness of that plan.  They waited a while longer before sneaking back onto the road.
That is where, fortunately, James had finished his long loop from his side road to meet up with them.
There was no time to waste because they now worried the man was out on the streets in his car.  That was the end of that night and the end of their shenanigans for a long time.

I'll end with a quotation from the great film Hot Rod:  "Play the victim and you shall be the victim."

You're welcome,

B.F. Greenough, aka,
Chief Hanky, Running Rascal

Tuck and Roll

The story that comes to mind today is another tale of Pierce and his friend up to no good, this time during March break, 2014.  His friend, in this story, is named James.  Pierce was again tagging along with a friend and his family.  The whole party was James, his mother, his father, family friends consisting of a father a mother and a daughter, then, of course, Peirce.  And although Pierce joined in on the adventure again, he is again not the feature character.

You see, this March break was spent at an all-inclusive resort near Holguin, Cuba.  There are countless tales of the shenanigans that James and Pierce got into that week but they are all only good stories because of the limitless supply of alcohol available to the young gentlemen.   This specific night, after a hefty comsumtion by both comrades, led to the "Tuck and Roll" as James calls it. 

The night began like all others: a handful of shots here, a few cervezá there. The boys lingered around the only bar open to patrons twenty-four hours of the day. Dim lit by the sparse orange lights, the American named "Sports Bar" (which resembled a modern sports bar as much as the towel hut did, with the exception of rum bottles behind the counter) was populated in the wee hours of the morning exclusively by the young and vibrant like James and Pierce.  The details pertaining to this night of partying is a spotty, inconsistent recollection from both boys but I believe I can tie it together. 

Pierce bit off more than he could chew, that's for certain, but what James did to try and help sick friend, is hard to rationalize. I guess we'll excuse him though, on account of the booze. After passing the point of no return, Pierce decided to call it a night and make his way back to the room that the two boys shared.  He announced this to James, who in his hammered condition, only understood Pierce's words well after he had left the bar. Being the caring friend he was, and once he had grasped the meaning of Pierce's words, James set out to check on him.  He thought Pierce had been gone for twenty minutes. He had been preoccupied with other young vacationers at the bar.  Suddenly concerned, he ran back to the room as quick as he could to make sure his pal had survived the 600m walk back. He sprinted to the door, swiped the card, and checked an empty room. Had Pierce not made it? Had he found some of the friends they had made that week? Maybe he went to the "disco" dance bar.  In all likeliness, James probably misheard his friend back at the bar, but in his drunken state, he knew only that he had to find him.  He left the room and blitzed back up the steps to the bar. He ran along the poolside deck and approached a hedge.  James had seen this hedge during the day.  It separated the pool from a lawned area in front of the "discotech". In other words, a shortcut in the eyes of James.  The hedge stood four feet tall and looked as thick as any James had ever seen.  The maneuver he imagined was to jump, front flip, and land feet planted on the other side.  In the case his acrobatic skills weren't quick enough, at least, in the inverted part of his flip, the hedge would sort of trampoline him up onto his feet... right?  He charged the hedge, jumped, cut himself plenty on the completely unsupportive bush, and landed, head first, on not the soft grass he remembered to be on the far side of the hedge, but instead, the three meter section of stone laid in concrete that welcomed him painfully.  He moaned and rolled on the grass section for a few minutes, checking if anyone from the outdoor bar had seen his crash.  He was safe, and not bleeding, so he returned to his mission. He checked the disco bar, closed; the 24/7 bar, same crowd, no Pierce; and continued his run back the the room a second time, taking a different route.  He swiped again and was relieved to see Pierce on the bed. 

"How long have you been here?" James asked.

"Not even a minute" Pierce mumbled through the pillow. 

Two things could be concluded from this: James sprinted the entire resort before Pierce got back to the room, and so, it took Pierce a safe fifteen minutes to make it from the bar to the bed. 

Satisfied, James left to keep the party going with some university friends down at the beach. He would tell Pierce of his elegant "Tuck and Roll" in the morning, joined by a substantial headache.

You're welcome,

B.F. Greenough, aka,

Chief Hanky, The Cocktail Chronicler

Bare and Blind

Half-naked women, hot saunas, summer freedom. That's what I can promise you with this story.

My friend Pierce and I were at my cottage this past summer. He was up visiting me for the weekend, early in July. On the Friday night of his stay, we were invited to a neighbour's cottage for dinner. Summer dinners are very late for my family, sometimes not starting until 9 o'clock, and the dinners are usually quite long because, during the summer, what's the rush? This meant that we were winding down from the long meal of socializing and drinking at around 10:30. Pierce and I were getting quite antsy because it was getting late and we had something we wanted to get from my parents: permission. Permission to go to a party, that is. Why we had waited so long to ask was because all day we were bickering if it was worth going. You see, neither of us knew the host that well.
Anyways, when we arrived home from the neighbour's cottage, Pierce and I asked my parents if we could drive to the cottage nearby. The cottage was about 20 minutes away, and we were invited to join the gathering, but I didn't know the girl whos cottage it was because she was Pierce's friend. And before I cut to us driving to her place, (past the part of the story where I have the grueling task of convincing my parents to let us go), I will give you the brief back-story of Pierce and his lady-friend's relationship:

Back in February, he met her at a sporting event, and had asked for her number. He got it, and began texting her for weeks and weeks with growing frequency. Her name was Lisa. She lived pretty far away, so he only met with her once before July, but as soon as we heard her cottage was so close to mine, Peirce and I jumped at the chance to meet up with her. What was my interest in joining him? I'm just a great friend and wingman... That, and we heard Lisa had ten or so of her friends joining her this particular weekend. And she had a sauna. Saunas are nice. Girls are nice.

Pierce drove to her place, and I was the navigator. It was late and we were excited. We didn't have that long to visit though because my parents wanted us home by 1:00. It took 20 minutes to get to her cottage and we were unsure if we were at the right place. We parked and walked slowly up to the back porch. I was imagining the awkward confrontation associated with this being the wrong cottage. But it wasn't. As soon as we stepped onto the porch out came (presumed and verified) Lisa's father from the side door. We were expecting him to say "Who are you?" but he didn't. He said "Hello" with a smile. We introduced ourselves and he said "They're around back, in the sauna." 

We walked around back and were about to knock on the sauna door when a guy came out. He was a little older than us. One of Lisa's friends that we had been warned were there. He greeted us with a "Hey" and walked away to dry off. We peered inside the sauna now and received a much more happy welcoming from Lisa inside, who said hello in unison with some of her many friends in the sauna. They told us to come in. Pierce and I quickly closed the door, changed into our bathing suits on the porch, then joined the ladies inside. I quickly noticed my glasses fogged in the hot room and I had to forfiet my ability to see the young women in detail. The group of girls squeezed a spot for Pierce and I on one of the two platforms in the tall room. It was very hot. There were 9 or so young women in the room with us and two other boys outside by the fire.
Lisa recited the girls names while pointing at them in sequence. I instantly forgot what their names were for two reasons -- there were so many of these blurry people and because it was so damn hot. Pierce and I quickly voiced our discomfort. The room was thick with steam and sweat but the ladies were so pleasant, I thought I was the only one suffering in the heat. I was not alone though, Pierce felt the heat too. We sucked-it-up through a few more minutes of awkward small talk before convincing the crowd to head to the lake. They threw one more cup of water onto the hot stove, which blasted us with one final wave of heat, and then we ran for the lake.
It was a long stone-step path down to the dock, and it was dark, so Pierce and I let some of the ladies lead the way. The train of us started running in the cool evening air and before I knew it, I saw arms attached to the girl's body in front of me, reach up behind herself, towards her shoulder blades and untie her bikini top. It was at this point I realized we were partaking in the act of skinny-dipping. It was also at this point, where my heart dropped as I realized I was very, very blind without my glasses. (Oh why didn't I use contacts!?). I cursed my useless eyeballs and watched the parade of topless women jumped off the dock and into the water through a blurry filter. Pierce and I then joined them in the water and swam around a bit. Skinny-dipping etiquette says to let the ladies out first so they can get covered without you watching them, so that's what we did. Once we were out too, I told Pierce of my misfortune and he just giggled selfishly at me.
We did another round of hot, and another of cold before drying off and gathering around the fire. The other guys were there now too. We enjoyed s'mores and much better conversation before having to race home to meet our curfew. All in all -- a good experience.

Moral of the story: get laser eye surgery, then go skinny-dipping. It's fun.

You're welcome,

B.F. Greenough, aka,
Chief Hanky, The Declined Blind